


See You at the Altar

by flintxwood



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Eloping, M/M, but ANGST ANGST ANGST, like the farthest thing from explicit, rated for mild sex scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-12
Updated: 2017-02-12
Packaged: 2018-09-23 18:45:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9671363
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flintxwood/pseuds/flintxwood
Summary: An arranged marriage, exactly the thing that would tear Oliver and Marcus apart.





	

“So you got on Puddlemere’s Reserves?” Marcus smiled as he ran his fingers through Oliver’s hair, the pair laying side by side on Oliver’s bed. 

“Yep, can’t believe it,” Oliver mumbled, enjoying the feeling of Marcus’s fingers. “How’s working at the ministry?”

“Awful,” Marcus muttered. “But my father didn’t really give me a choice.”

Oliver nuzzled into Marcus’s chest, wrapping arms around his waist. “Hm, yeah awful he wouldn’t let you get into professional quidditch.”

“’Not something for pure bloods like us’,” he mimicked, not keeping bitterness out of his tone. “As if our family’s somehow better,” he grumbled. 

“Yeah, you’re not really fit for prestigious pure blood life.”

“No kidding,” he muttered. “I worked hard for years to get good at quidditch and I can’t even go pro,” he grunted. 

Oliver ran his fingers across Marcus’s toned stomach. It was losing definition since he didn’t have time to exercise as much anymore due to his gruelling ministry job. 

“I need to get home, Ollie,” Marcus said, kissing his forehead. Oliver whined as he pulled away and stood up. “I’ll see you again soon, promise.” He bent down and kissed him gently on the lips. 

“Okay, love you.”

“You too.” And he felt a pang in his heart when Marcus apparated out of his tiny flat.

…

Training was always gruelling, even if Oliver was just on the reserves. He enjoyed it despite that, it helped him make sure he stayed on his top game. 

He’d recently gone to the Quidditch World Cup with his parents. Puddlemere was a good start to his career, but he’d love to play on Scotland’s or England’s team one day. He was nowhere near good enough yet but he wanted to push himself there. 

He tossed his quidditch robes aside and was about to head into the shower until he realised an owl was at his windowsill. He recognised it as Marcus’s one and noticed the letter it was holding. He ran to window and opened it, the owl flying to his table and dropping the letter. He opened it and it was a short message.

Ollie,

I’m coming over at seven. I really need to tell you something.

Marcus

He stared at the message, it was vague in a very Marcus way. This was his way of telling he needs to tell him something desperately. Marcus usually showed up out of the blue so the fact he told him he was coming made him worried. 

The owl was looking at him expectantly, waiting to be given a response. Oliver grabbed a piece of parchment and scribbled down an okay. 

As he waited he took his shower and made a quick dinner. He kept glancing at the time, feeling it creep on at him. He’d made up far too many assumptions of what Marcus could be coming to tell him. 

Right when his clock ticked to seven Marcus aparated into his flat. 

Oliver barely recognised him. His shoulders were slumped, his grey eyes were dim, his hair looked like he hadn’t washed it in days, he had dark circles under his eyes, and his face was red and puffy. Marcus seemed to be making an effort to not look at him. 

“Marc?” Oliver asked walking closer to him and taking his hand. “What’s wrong?”

Marcus bit his lip and swallowed. Marcus was never like this, he never allowed himself to be visibly vulnerable. Marcus was known for being intimidating and scared most people. Oliver always saw right through that, and he later learnt it was a personality was built from fear of getting close to people. Oliver had always suspected it was some sort of overcompensation but he was surprised to learn how insecure he really way. 

But despite all that, he was surprised by the state he was in.

“Marcus?” he asked again.

Marcus took a deep breath and finally looked at him. “My dad’s forcing me to get married.”

He felt like he was hit by the Knight Bus. “What?”

“I have to marry some pure blood witch,” Marcus swallowed. “I don’t have a choice.”

Oliver looked at the ground. He knew more prestigious pure bloods liked to keep their status but a forced marriage? That just sounded wrong. 

He noticed tears were running down Marcus’s face and he reached over to wipe away his tears. “I don’t want to,” he heaved out, his head falling onto Oliver’s shoulder. Oliver rubbed his hand soothingly on his back. 

They found themselves on Oliver’s couch both laid down as Marcus tried to calm down. There was nothing they could do about the situation, nothing to run away from being torn apart.

They hadn’t told anyone they were together. Oliver had gotten around to telling his friends and family he was gay but not necessarily that he was dating anyone, especially Marcus.

Marcus though, hadn’t. It came from a combination of his insecurity and the fact he came from such a high up family, that if – or when – it got out it would cause a wave of a scandal. 

“I’ve known for a while,” Marcus said after a long stretch of silence. Oliver didn’t need to ask how long because Marcus continued. “I guess I just never thought it’d actually happen, seemed a bit too outdated. But when I got home the other day, a girl I’d never met was there with her parents and my dad told me she was my ‘betrothed’.” 

This would usually be something Marcus would scoff at his father saying, but his voice broke. He felt him shake and he soothed him by rubbing his back. 

“And you have to do it?” Oliver asked. 

“Mhm,” he mumbled. “It’s such fucking bullocks and backwards. First I can’t make qudditch my career, now I can’t even choose who I marry.”

Oliver kissed his head, giving him a squeeze. “You’re right, such bullocks,” he said softly as he felt a tear run down his cheek. “And you sure there’s nothing you can do?”

“Nothing.” 

Oliver sighed, running his fingers through Marcus’s hair. 

“I still love you, just so y’know,” Marcus said. 

“I know.”

“And I really don’t want to do this.”

“I know.”

They fell into silence, just holding each other because Merlin knew they soon wouldn’t be able to do this anymore soon.

…

“Lavender or lilac?”

“Don’t care,” Marcus muttered to his mother.

“Amelie can’t decide, you need to choose,” his mother side. 

“Mother, I don’t care. She can have both for all I care.” He tried to keep his concentration on his paperwork but of course his mother kept pestering him. 

“Marcus, this is your wedding too. You should have some say.”

He sighed and set his quill aside. “I don’t know, lavender?” He offered begrudgingly. 

His mother looked at least a little satisfied, enough that she left him alone in his room. 

He tried to concentrate on his work but he pushed it aside, picking up his copy of the most recent quidditch weekly. There wasn’t anything too interesting so he threw it aside. 

His wedding was in a few days. He had a job at the ministry he hated. And he was losing Oliver. The absolute worst combination of things.

He hadn’t even had a real conversation with Amelie, he can’t think of a thing he knew about her. Not that his parents cared, she was just being used as ‘good blood’ for their hypothetical children. Oliver used to tease him for all the things he had to learn as a prestigious pure blood, despite being a pure blood himself but from a less prestigious family. Marcus would just ignore him; he was proud to be part of his family.

Now he’d give anything to be the type of pure blood Oliver was.

He opened a draw and pulled out a picture of him and Oliver. On loop Oliver softly kissed his cheek, Marcus smile growing each loop. He wanted that forever 

He heard the door open and groaned, putting the picture under his paperwork. “Mother, I don’t care about the fucking colours of the tablecloths.”

“Hi.”

He swerved around in his to she Amelie. He hadn’t made an effort to be nice to her, even if she was going to be his wife. He didn’t care, he was losing Oliver because of her. He knew it wasn’t her fault but she was the easiest to take it out on. 

“How are you?” she prompted. He scowled at her and turned back to his paperwork. 

This girl was persistent though and walked further into the room. “Just so you know, I want to do this about as much as you do.”

He didn’t look at her but really he wasn’t surprised. They were only twenty, of course she wouldn’t want to marry a complete stranger either. 

“Do you think our parents care about that?” he grunted. 

“No, guess not.”

The whole point of the marriage was for children and status. And the former required something he really didn’t want to do. 

“I’m sorry you’re getting roped into this too,” she said. 

He looked at her. “Nothing we can do about it.”

She nodded and glanced at the quidditch posters. “Like quidditch?” he shrugged in response. “Play at school?”

“Yeah, chaser. I was the captain.”

She smiled. “That’s cool. I played keeper at my school.”

She was clearly trying to make some sort of connection. But he didn’t want to, he simply hated this girl for what she would become. For saying she was a keeper and reminding him of Oliver.

He turned away, reading over the paperwork again. Amalie sighed. “If you don’t want to talk, fine. But we’re not getting out of this.” 

And she left the room, slamming the door behind her. 

He took out the picture of him and Oliver, and as he stared at his tears fell onto it.

…

“What’s on your mind?”

Oliver turned to Borg as she tied her hair into a ponytail. 

“Nothing,” he replied. 

She cocked her head to the side. “You sure?”

He shrugged. “Fascinated with my personal life, Borg?” 

“Not really, but you haven’t been acting like yourself. Are you okay?”

He scratched the back of his neck. Might as well get vague details out to someone. “My… my ex is getting married.” He didn’t consider Marcus to be his ex, they hadn’t stopped seeing each other. But they both knew that once Marcus was married they couldn’t see each other anymore. And that fucking hurt.

“Oh, that sucks mate,” she frowned. “You going to the wedding?”

“Not invited.”

She nodded. “Okay, that’s a good reason to be a little distracted.”

Oh if only she knew.

“Whatever, what about you? Am I the only one with the pathetic love life?” 

“I’ve been with my girlfriend for three years,” she shrugged. “Not exciting but I’m happy.”

He smiled. “That’s nice.”

She nodded. “Good luck in the dating field, you’ll find someone else.”

But he didn’t want someone else, he wanted Marcus.

…

It was the night before his wedding and Marcus spent it with Oliver. Because this was the last time they could do anything like this. 

Hands roamed over the other under old sheets, stroking the other’s toned body, lips touching everywhere they could reach. For at least a few hours they could pretend of the day creeping on them. 

His lips grazed Oliver’s neck as he was on top of him, rocking his hips slowly as Oliver mumbled his name barely above a whisper, as if he was scared that if someone heard them they would be pulled apart and told to never communicate again. 

As Oliver’s arms were around his neck, Marcus pressed his lips against his. It was barely above a graze but he craved this, he needed it as much as possible. He was trying to stretch this out as long as he possibly could. 

But when it did come to its inevitable end, he slowly pulled on his clothes, avoiding Oliver’s eye. Oliver was silent, laying in his bed and stared up at his ceiling. This felt too final, but what were they supposed to do?

But, as if Oliver read his mind, he spoke up.

“…What if we eloped?”

He looked back at him. Oliver was sitting up, pressing his lips together. 

Marcus shook his head. “Ollie…”

“I know, it’s stupid and reckless and we’re still kids and it could fuck everything up, but I can’t think of anything else we can do. I just… I just want to be with you. Not have your torn away from me because your family thinks bullocks status is more important that you having a choice in your life.”

Merlin, why did he have to be so right? 

But he couldn’t. If he did it’d just lead to… to a lot of things. Things he wasn’t ready to handle.

Despite that, he bent down, cupped Oliver’s face in his hands and kissed him. He kissed him with everything in him, because this was their last kiss.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered when he pulled away. “I love you but…” he trailed off, swallowing the lump in his throat. 

Oliver nodded in understanding. “Worth a shot.”

He wrapped his arms around him, Oliver’s strong, bare chest pressing against his clothed. 

When he did pull away and aparated home, he took a cold shower, allowing himself to cry as much as he needed.

…

The wedding was at two that afternoon. Pristine wizard families were already arriving, and Marcus was barely ready. 

A heavy amount of Sleekeazy was in his hair and he couldn’t stop running his fingers through it. Everything was happening quickly around but it felt like a daze. The thought of his hand being shook all day, congratulating him as if he’d made the choice to get married. 

The wedding was being held at his family’s manor so when he got the chance he snuck off to his room, dodging guests and house elves. He went to his wardrobe and took out an old shoebox he kept everything from Oliver in. 

A broken snitch that couldn’t fly anymore, the photo of Oliver kissing his cheek, and notes they snuck each other in class. It was silly but anything that reminded him of Oliver made him happy. 

And he was being torn away from him.

Unless…

No, they couldn’t. That involved betraying his parents. He had to marry Amalie. He had to keep up his parents’ status. He had to… he had to produce an heir. 

He was an only child, he had to produce an heir.

Even if that meant doing so many things he really didn’t want to do. 

But he stared down at the picture of him and Oliver and he honestly couldn’t remember ever being that happy before he and Oliver were together. 

Crap, could he actually do this? 

Would it make him happy? Yeah. 

Would it lead to his parents’ disappointment? Definitely. Being disowned? Probably. Unemployment? Most likely. 

His happiness? No doubt.

Without a second thought he aparated to Oliver’s flat. 

Oliver looked absolutely stunned to see him.

“Marcus?” he began but Oliver cut him off. 

“I should be getting married right now, but I don’t care,” he sputtered out nervously. “Marry me, Ollie. We can fucking run off to America and we can change our names if we have to, I want to be with you and only you. You were right, elopement may be crazy but you’re the only person I want to be with.”

“Dramatic,” Oliver noted, his stunned expression disappearing. 

“Fine, will you marry me?” 

Oliver was smiling, his beautiful brown eyes lighting up. “Yeah, I’ll marry you.” And he stepped forward and wrapped his arms around his neck and kissed him. He kissed him back, holding him like tightly. Fuck, they’re actually doing this but it felt like the best choice. “We’ll figure out everything else when we have to,” Oliver said when they pulled away. 

Marcus nodded. “I’m probably going to get fired from my job honestly.”

“Pretty sure Montrose is recruiting.”

Marcus smiled and nodded. That sounded perfect.

…

Calling Oliver his husband was definitely the most satisfying thing in the world and something he never found himself regretting


End file.
